Iris Messages Gone Wrong
by SnappedHydra
Summary: Over the years, Iris Messages have gone wrong. This is the record of it all. This is the untold story, starting with a vision in the baths, as narrated by Reyna Ramirez Arellano. Written in no particular order, taking suggestions. Perhaps a little OOC.
1. In the Baths

Over the years, Iris Messages have gone wrong. This is the record of it all. This is the untold story, starting with a vision in the baths, as narrated by Reyna Ramirez Arellano. Written in no particular order, taking suggestions. Perhaps a little OOC.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano in the Baths<strong>

Roman baths were always refreshing. Reyna especially enjoyed them when no one else was around to make conversation. It was already hard enough to make small chat when she was fully clothed; being stark naked with only warm bubbly, foamy water as your cover was triple the awkwardness.

Besides, Reyna desperately needed the lone time to think. Just days before (or had it only been hours?), Reyna and the rest of the Forum had sent off Hazel, Frank (Centurion Frank, her mind corrected), and the newcomer Percy Jackson on their quest.

_Percy Jackson. _He was Reyna's worst nightmare, and Reyna had no choice but to leave it at that. But Reyna did have to think about the quest they'd left for. Did the three of them really just leave for their deaths?

Reyna froze in place. This was her curse: Reyna had a conscience.

And then, as if thinking of Hazel had sparked something, the air directly in front of Rena's face began to shimmer like the heat off a tarmac. Pretty soon, the image of Hazel's face showed in the mirage.

Reyna's eyes popped, and she let loose a guttural scream. But just as quick as she had started screaming, she stopped. Reyna scrambled to find a towel— oh gods, anywhere, yes! — and wrap it around herself. "Hazel?" she gasped.

Hazel who for once looked the ghostly apparition she ought to be blinked. "Reyna? Oh my gods, it is you! Yes, it worked."

"What worked?" demanded Reyna, trying to look in command of the situation— something very hard to accomplish with a skimpy towel that barely covered her midsection.

"Look, don't freak out just yet, okay. You have to listen very carefully. We don't have much time."

Reyna nodded seriously, getting into character. "But you all are alive?"

"Yes," confirmed Hazel.

Reyna sighed, for once allowing herself to betray her true inner feeling: relief. "Great. I'll listen to anything you say through this— wait, what is this called again?" she asked.

"Iris Message. It's Greek."

"Well, it has terrible timing," remarked Reyna.

Hazel laughed heartily, but Rena knew Hazel knew she didn't mean that. This Iris Message, whatever it was, had not come at a better time. It was certainly a good omen.

Reyna just secretly hoped it wasn't an omen for more Iris Messages to come.

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><p><strong>Sorry Reyna, there will most definitely be more Iris Messages to come.<strong>

**A taste of what is to come...**

**Chapter 2: Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson Alone in Cabin 3**


	2. Alone in Cabin 3

**I feel like a terrible person. I was hoping I could update several times a week, and here I am slacking off. Again. Sorry. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson Alone in Cabin 3<strong>

Sally Jackson drummed her fingers nervously on her writing desk in her quaint little apartment in the heart of New York City. She was just about to head out to meet with a prospective publisher interested in her novel at a café. Sally was overjoyed. This was it. This was her big break.

There was just one issue.

Sally hadn't told Percy yet. Paul knew, though. Sally glanced at her watch. Did she have enough time to Iris Message her son?

Sally decided she did, heading into the bathroom and turning the showerhead on to the highest heat setting. Instantly (almost like magic, she mused), steam began to pool near her feet, making it way nearing — oh no! — her hair. Sally better make this quick.

Sally fished through her purse for a spare drachma, and whispered the sacred words to the steam. "O, Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering and show me Percy Jackson, Camp Half-Blood."

For a magical moment, nothing happened. And then it did. And when it happened, Sally wished she'd been better prepared. Why? Because nothing could have prepared her for this.

Her son, half-naked, wrapped around a — thank the gods — still fully-clothed Annabeth Chase, both of them passionately kissing one another. "Percy!" she cried.

Percy's eyes shot open, and he tore himself off Annabeth. "Mom!"

Sally put her hands on her hips. "Just what do you think you are doing?"

"Finding a shirt," he quipped, slipping a thin one on.

Sally rolled her eyes. "And how are you, Annabeth dear?"

"Fine, thank you, Mrs. Jackson." Her cheeks were red.

Sally smiled knowingly. "Now, I'm going to make a request, and both of you listen very carefully. Don't you ever do that again."

Percy blinked shyly. "Okay, Mom, you're embarrassing me. Could you please leave?"

"All right. Then I assume you don't want to know how I'm most likely publishing my own novel soon, hmm? I thought not," she murmured quickly. "Well, bye!" And Sally cut the connection.

"Wait, what?" were Percy's last words before Sally couldn't hear anymore.

Sally sighed contentedly. There was nothing — absolutely nothing — like walking in on your son and his girlfriend. Even if she "walked in" courtesy of the Iris Message.

This just made her day.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: TBA...Codeword for: I don't know yet and am willing to take suggestions.<strong>


	3. Stuck in a Wheelchair

**Chiron's horse end meets wheelchair just as Annabeth makes an important call to her favorite (well, previously favorite) instructor.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Chiron Stuck in a Wheelchair<strong>

Chiron was old, but not that old. Sure the Big 3-0-0-0 was old, but it wasn't quite as ripe as Greek gods. So the question was why was he having trouble fitting into his enchanted wheelchair?

He was in the Big House.

It was his favorite place in the world. It was from here that he could keep an eye on everything — the campers, the outside world, the gods. Chiron was a man (centaur, actually) of the background, the one who would never come into foreplay of things. Some days he felt old, and others days he felt this mortal feeling of hope that was an illusion of young age. He couldn't help it. Even a teacher has to be proud of his pupils at one point.

All teachers aren't boring.

Chiron was trying to fit himself into the wheelchair. He normally didn't use it during camp, especially since most campers knew who he was, but he'd made a bet with Mr. D: Go a day in the wheelchair. The prize was one or two favors. Like fetching a glass of Coke or stuffing Seymour's face with snausages until he couldn't speak anymore.

Chiron had to win.

But first, he had to get into the wheelchair itself.

His two hind hooves were bending under the support of his rear end, while his two front hooves supported his weight and the sudden weight distribution. Chiron took a deep breath. This was why he preferred being a centaur; he hated getting into the wheelchair. And he hated that he had to sit backwards like some car in reverse.

But Chiron was about to hate his current predicament even more as the air behind him shivered, and the fur on his rear end stood up like a centaur in headlights.

"Chiron?" came the baffled response of one of his favorite students, Annabeth Chase. Er, well, he was most positive it was Annabeth.

"Annabeth, dear? I can't quite see you." Chiron's normally strong, booming voice had been reduced to a high-pitched squeak. It was as if he was blind.

"But Chiron, I can see you," she said, sounding rather terrified.

"Just a minute, I'll be there." With great difficulty, he scooted the chair around so he now faced the Iris-Message. Annabeth looked surprisingly pale for someone who was in a mist rainbow of colors. Chiron struggled to keep a straight face, but managed, "Now what is it you wanted to tell me?"

Annabeth's eyes went wide as saucers, and her mouth fell even farther open. "Uh…nothing. Just wanted to check in and tell you that I…uh…I have an important job interview to go to. There's an architecture firm interested in me…yeah, so…Oh, look at the time. Gotta go!" she exclaimed dramatically, looking down at her bare wrist as if there were a watch there.

Annabeth cut the connection so quickly Chiron even wondered if that was worth one drachma.

"Damn," he mumbled to himself.

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><p><strong>Sorry this was really bad. Hastily-written, and poorly edited. I'm too busy these days. Review for a tired soul?<strong>

**Chapter 4: Still don't know yet...something about toilets and books...maybe.**


	4. Interrupted

**Okay. I'm going off a review high right here. Isn't it sad I'm inspired to write because of only 3 reviews? Still, sad or not, I wrote this up about Piper and Jason.**

**Set between The Lost Hero and The Son of Neptune.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: Piper McLean, Interrupted<strong>

Piper McLean hated her cabin. Really. Honestly. She hated the smell that greeted her whenever she stepped foot inside. It always — _always — _smelled of perfume and cologne and sweat all mixed together.

She preferred the Wilderness School's gym locker rooms to this. Every time she walked in, that was the scent that greeted her.

Cabin bathrooms were separated from the cabin itself, so the cabins simply ended up as sleeping headquarters or closet storage space. Or in the case of Aphrodite, the cabin was a part-time makeup salon.

Piper could have sworn that was a power of Aphrodite. Next to every other child of hers had a natural talent of applying mascara without clumps. Piper, on the other hand, had given up long ago.

No one was in the cabin; it felt strange and foreign. The lights on the several vanity tables hugging one complete side of the wall were all turned off, and Piper's face still seemed pale in comparison.

They were all preparing for the annual chariot races. Like the Indy 500, she mused. For once, Aphrodite had set aside their combs and hair-brushes, determined to win and bring glory to the cabin name.

As Piper was Counselor, she had been selected to man the chariot. "I will do my duty with honor," she had promised them mock-seriously. Lacy had been a fit of giggles when she had said that. The rest of the cabin had just stared at her.

And as counselor, Piper had of course worn "the wrong type of shirt." As if there was one. Still, her cabinmates had taken one look at her and asked her to go back to the cabin and change into a more fashionable _pink_ ensemble.

Piper had mixed thoughts about the color, but decided to go along with it just for today.

Since no one was in the cabin, Piper quickly yanked her orange t-shirt over her head, and began rummaging through one of Lacy's trunks for the shirt they had described in detail to her. She'd pointed out that Lacy was a whole 2 sizes smaller than her, and any shirt of Lacy's would not fit Piper. They'd still forced her to go change or (yes, this was their ultimatum) Piper wouldn't be allowed to participate in the chariot races. Ah, the woes of being the leader of a democracy.

Why could she not find the stupid shirt?

Silence enveloped her. Again, the cabin was too empty.

Not for long though. The air beside Piper's ear buzzed pleasantly, causing to Piper to turn around in alarm…

…and scream bloody murder.

Why? Because the face of Jason Grace was staring at her through this Iris Message. "Piper?!"

"Jason!" She scrambled to find a shirt. Oh, gods! Anything. She did not want him to forever hold the image of her in a bra. She slipped something on, not bothering whether she was wearing it backwards or not.

His beautiful cheeks were tinged scarlet, and he would not look her in the eye. This, of course, was a very bad thing, for Jason was Piper's unofficial boyfriend, and she feared he wouldn't even be that for much longer. Still, he managed to yell, "Pipes, where are you? The races are about to start, and everyone's wondering where you are."

"They are?" repeated Piper dumbly, her brain just coming to the conclusion that maybe her cabinmates had set her up. If that were the case then, she conjectured, then not everybody would be clueless.

"Yeah! Are you in your cabin?"

"Yeah, and you're at the starting line?"

"Come on!"

"Be there in 5 minutes!" she hollered, cutting the connection with one hand.

Oh, gods. How embarrassing. That had to be the most embarrassing moment in her entire life. Well, of course, excluding the time she barfed all over Leo at the Wilderness School. (Blame the stomach flu.)

Piper narrowed her eyes, her train of thoughts turning darker and darker. After she won this race, her cabinmates were going to get it.

But, first, she had a race to get to. Piper checked her shirt, making sure she was wearing it the right way. Piper broke out into a sprint, letting the screen door slam shut behind her. If only chariot races were foot races.

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><p><strong>Haha. I was laughing as I wrote this. Funny story is I'd actually been saving this scenario for another one of my future stories and it was going to be between Percy and Annabeth, but I just ended up using it for this.<strong>


	5. Musical Dilemmas

**Sorry this one's late!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: Apollo Has Musical Dilemmas<strong>

As god of music, Apollo was entitled to feeling good about himself. After all, with 5000 years under his belt, one could expect him to be good at his instrument: the lyre. But whether he needed to practice or not was a good question.

Apollo was wildly conflicted.

And so, he decided to call Artemis to help him figure things. She was such a good sister. She would help him out. Apollo sat up straight, his long lean legs almost banging against the steering wheel of his famous red, Maserati Spyder. His sunglasses almost fell off his nose, but after pushing them back up, he set his golden lyre down on the passenger seat next to him, and summoned a golden drachma out of thin air—the perks of being a god.

"O Iris, show me Artemis, at her camp for hot babes," said Apollo.

The rainbow appeared, but appeared a little defiant as it took a slow time to respond. Apollo blinked, but after raising a finger, the air shimmered.

The sight made Apollo's sunglasses almost fall off the bridge of his nose.

All of Artemis' hunters changing like a bunch of mortal schoolgirls in a locker room. (Not that Apollo would know. Pshaw!) They were in the woods somewhere, and the tents were all trademark silver.

Then some Huntress started screaming and pointing at Apollo, who in return shook his head in order to quiet her. The last thing he wanted was to create a commotion. Although...looking upon every other Hunter glaring at him and yanking their clothes on (or screaming, he pleasantly remembered), he decided he might be too late.

Artemis's face filled the screen, glaring entirely at him with so much cold that he wanted to take a step back. And he was the sun god."Apollo," she hissed. "Leave."

Apollo smiled apologetically. "Technically, I was never here, A32."

"DO NOT REFER TO ME BY MY BRA SIZE!" she screeched.

Apollo shrugged. "Listen, so hey, I had to ask you something."

Artemis schooled her face into a pleasant mask. "Go ahead."

Apollo grinned. "Do you think I should practice my lyre, even though I'm the god of music and I have tons of experience and I'm really good?"

Artemis's pleasant mask tore, replaced by a really, really livid Artemis. "_That's_ why you contacted me? Apollo, you're so stupid! And," she threatened, "if I ever catch you snooping around, I'll _castrate_ you!" she spat.

Her words made Apollo's ichor run cold.

Apollo's eyes bugged, recognizing the real threat here. "Bye, sissy!" And he cut the connection, for once grateful to have all his body parts intact.

Apollo let out a long sigh. And she hadn't even answered his question properly.

Oh, well. There was always next time.

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><p><strong>Thanks for the read!<strong>


	6. Meeting Your Demise

**This one's for IceQueen987, who came up with the great, hilarious idea!**

**Set after the Heroes of Olympus series, assuming Percy, Jason and Nico lives (Please, Rick, can you make sure nobody dies too terribly! But if you have to pick, let's get rid of Jason first!)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6: Jason Grace Meets His Demise in the Baths<strong>

Jason Grace sighed deeply, inhaling the wonderful chlorine smell of the Roman baths.

He hadn't been to New Rome in several months, due to the Giant War. Instead, Jason and seven others had been off frolicking in Europe to battle killer giants. But now that that mess had been dealt with, Jason and the others had been free to return home.

The two camps had never been more at peace. Funny, Jason thought to himself, that all wars were always fought for peace, which usually followed suit after the end of war. Piper had been a little disappointed that he'd decided to leave for New Rome first, but after promising his return, she'd been okay.

The first thing he'd done when he'd come back: take a Roman bath.

And so here he was, in the baths. Right now, he was enjoying the Jacuzzi, his personal favorite. Jason closed his eyes, relishing everything, feeling everything. He was in complete control of his senses, and yet, he was drowning himself in it.

A faint splash sounded from in front of him.

Jason opened his eyes, to see Percy Jackson sliding into the Jacuzzi across from him. "What are you doing here?" asked Jason, surprised. "Shouldn't you be in Camp Half-Blood?"

Percy shook his black hair; it was getting longer and was in need of a haircut. The water around him rippled curiously; Jason figured it was some weird power of Poseidon. "Nah," he said. "I needed a quick bath, and I needed to settle things out here."

Jason nodded, feeling the same way. Embarrassingly, he remembered the moment on the Argo II when he and Percy tried to sit in the same seat. He flushed unwillingly. "Are you going back to Camp Half-Blood, then? Afterwards?" he clarified.

Percy nodded. "I had thought about it, you know, living in the city. But, I realized, that's not really who I am. And besides, I'm sure they're pressed for space."

Jason pursed his lips, but said nothing. They went a couple minutes like this. Jason hummed to himself. So this is what Reyna meant about having to make awkward conversations in the Baths. The foamy water rose up to just above both Percy's and Jason's stomachs.

For a while the only sound was the quiet rush of the water around them.

Jason would have gladly spent a couple more minutes this way, but the air directly to his right shimmered inopportunely. Jason's head snapped up, only to see the wounded-looking face of Nico di Angelo, staring at him through a rainbow-colored misty Iris Message.

"Nico!" he yelped. He looked around him, at himself naked and at Percy, naked across from him and in the same tub as him. Jason held his hands up. "This isn't what it looks like, I promise," he pleaded.

Nico blinked, his jaw hardening. "So this is your true motive," he said cryptically.

Percy's forehead creased, confusion crinkling his expression.

Panic clouded Jason's mind. For a highly accomplished Roman praetor, he was not faring well in this situation. "Nico, you have the wrong idea. You honestly don't think there's something going on between…" Jason trailed off, trying to gesture as ambiguously as he could between him and Percy.

Percy for his part kept up being confused.

Nico glared at Jason. "Then explain yourself." Jason opened his mouth, deciding on words, but not quite achieving them when— "Actually, don't," commanded Nico. "I'll just take my leave, and you two can enjoy yourselves," he said bitterly.

Jason almost wanted to recoil from the venom in Nico's words, but was doubly overcome with the feeling of pity. The poor kid needed a hug. Jason started, "Nico, wait—"

But Nico had cut through the connection, leaving behind a confused Percy, a dangerous situation, and unraveling threads for Jason. That quiet rush of water returned, the only comfort in this situation.

Percy blinked, speaking for the first time since Nico's Iris Message. "What was that about?"

Jason froze, his eyes wide. How to proceed from here… "Nothing," he said tersely, as he stood up, wrapped his lower half in a white towel, and scurried out of the Roman baths.

When he was far away, Jason sighed again. That had been too close. And then there was Nico he had to deal with. Jason sighed. He had to fix that mess.

No one ever said Jason couldn't be a matchmaker.

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><p><strong>Thanks for the read!<strong>

**Oh, and P.S. Jason isn't gay, just for the record.**


	7. Mortal Embarrassments

**Hey, guys. Here's Chapter 7!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 7: Annabeth Chase, Mortally Embarrassed by Mother<strong>

Date nights at the Jackson household were always interesting for Annabeth Chase.

It didn't matter that she was a demigod on those nights. For at least that night, Annabeth and her boyfriend Percy could pretend they were just _normal _teenagers enjoying each other.

_Normal. _The word itself was so overrated.

Annabeth sighed, the meager scarf draped over her neck doing nothing to shield her from the cold wintery breeze. January in New York was nothing like summer.

But the reason most summers were special for Annabeth was mostly because of Camp Half-Blood…

Annabeth glanced around her. She was in the F Train that would take her uptown to Percy's place. The tracks rattled as the train whizzed by, much like Annabeth's antsy heart. She'd just finished a day's work of architecting Olympus. Not an easy job when you had little to work with; the only material held in abundance being rubble.

It was time to relax.

…

Annabeth curled up on the sofa, a bowl of pretzels in her left hand and Percy on her right. Right side, not right hand…

He fiddled with the remote, setting it to some channel (The Discovery Channel, heck, she didn't care) and turning sideways to face her. He scratched the side of his head. "Listen, I know you really wanted to watch _Roman Holiday_ but it's not on, so I hope you're okay with—" —he squinted at the small flat-screen TV— "—_To Kill A Mockingbird. _They're both Gregory Peck, so hey, I figured we might as well."

Annabeth smiled as she munched on a pretzel.

Percy noticed her smile, and his eyebrows knit together. "Why the smile?" he wondered.

"No reason," she mumbled, the smile still in place.

He grinned at her like he was a pirate. The thought secretly sent currents of pleasure running through her body; she shivered. "Oh, come on. You can tell me."

She shook her head adamantly like she was a little girl; which she kind of was, considering the fact that she was wearing footie pajamas.

His green eyes glittered with amusement. "Then I'll have to tickle it out of you," he declared, reaching out with his two hands, his fingers wiggling like claws.

In fact, Annabeth had just enough time to put the bowl of pretzels before Percy pounced on her.

Literally. He tickled her sides and she spasmed, her legs kicking out from underneath her and her arms going every which way. "Stop," she gasped.

"Never," he vowed, tickling her stomach—oh, gods!— and lower.

And even though she was not in the most comfortable of positions and her hair was a mess and that was most definitely unattractive, Annabeth couldn't help but crack a smile. Warm nights indoor, that's what winter was about. "What if your parents come home?" she managed weakly.

Percy licked his lips. "Paul's at a teaching seminar in Boston and my mom's got the whole grocery place on lockdown while she hunts."

Annabeth giggled. And then she giggled some more, because Percy kept tickling her. She almost wanted to say stop once more, but just then, the air around them shimmered…in the godly way.

"The hell are you doing to my daughter, Jackson?" roared an unmistakably angry feminine voice.

Percy leaped off her, his hands instantly going to his sides. "I didn't do it," he said. A great guilty plea.

Annabeth froze. Her insides hurt, but not just because Percy had just been tickling her. Her stomach was lurching at the endless possibilities of harm that could come to Percy by way of…her mother. "MOM?" she gaped openly.

"Yes, Annabeth," she snapped as if she were dumb and Athena were the goddess of wisdom. She was, sadly. "Now Jackson, answer me."

"Like I said before as well, ma'am, that's not my name," corrected Percy gently, surprisingly gentle in the situation.

Annabeth was most positive her face was scarlet. She would never be able to live this up.

"Would you prefer to be called sea spawn?" spat Athena.

Percy blinked. "No," he said curtly.

Then the strangest thing happened. Athena turned to her. "Now, Annabeth, before I lecture you on how to pick a sensible boyfriend, Aphrodite told me to tell you that your salad bar idea seems to be stable and has been approved by all the other Olympians."

Annabeth blinked, processing all this information dumped on her. She focused on one thing. "Wait, mom. _Aphrodite_ told you this?"

"Yes. Now why would you—" Athena broke off suddenly, just coming to the realization that she'd been 1-UP'ed by the goddess of love. Athena smiled pleasantly (and thinly) at both Annabeth and Percy. "Excuse me for a moment."

Athena disappeared, the fizzling Iris Message showing only the faintest image of a fiery column in the background. Snickering could also be heard; this followed by a string of curses.

Annabeth and Percy shared a worried glance.

About a minute, a frazzled-looking Athena showed up again, more than a couple flyaway hairs sticking up angrily from her head. "Sorry about that. Now, like I was saying, Annabeth, a nice boyfriend should be—"

This time it was Annabeth who cut her off. "Sorry, Mom. Love you, bye!" And she slashed her hand through the Iris Message, only the faintest of misty droplets sticking as residue on her hand.

Percy was wide-eyed, staring at her. "You…just…" he stuttered.

Annabeth smiled. "Now…where were we?"

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you guys are enjoying this story as much as I am.<strong>


	8. This Boy Is On Fire

**Leo is on fire and does not acknowledge it until Piper IMs him and freaks out.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 8: Leo Valdez, On Fire<strong>

Leo Valdez was notorious for being the type of guy who never did anything halfway.

He was a son of Hephaestus; these attributes were in his blood. Ever since birth, his obsession with machines and fixing things had only grown—it had only made itself more a part of him. There was a part of him that would always be wondering about his machines. It would make no difference whether he was playing volleyball, relaxing on a beach, or even fighting for his life. A part of Leo was always with his machines.

And when, Leo—all of Leo—was finally with his machines, he could work his magic, set his mind to his task, and fulfill it.

He liked doing things in one big stretch; he didn't like leaving unfixed projects in the middle.

Leo with the care of a skilled mechanic passionate about his work gazed intently at the materials before him.

Two Wii Remotes, a console, and the rest of the almost complete Argo II.

He was in Bunker 9, finishing up touches on his mega-awesome killer war machine. He just had to finish syncing up the Wii Remotes to the console, and figure out how to link the console to the killer war machine so he could fire ammo from the aforementioned killer war machine.

The thought sent sparks up his spine. It tingled, for a moment, but this tingling didn't stop. It kept growing, multiplying in on itself, feeding on its own heat.

Leo looked over his shoulder. There were literal sparks of fire on his back. He was blazing up. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised he was catching on fire; he was.

Leo hissed, slapping his wrist to try to tamp it down. The flames sputtered and died.

This was the downside to being a great inventor. The moment he turned his back, everything would be ablaze. Sometimes, Leo got too excited.

Literally.

Leo sighed, checking over himself once more for any extra flames. Seeing none, he continued fiddling with the wires in the console, hooking it up to the mainframe of the Argo II. There was something about the way he needed to link things up that was delaying Leo from his goal. He needed the Wii Remotes to serve as both a commanding joystick with which he could steer the boat and as a means to controlling and firing the ammunition in the arsenal, if the need ever arose.

Which, since Leo and his friends were all demigods, would occur in approximately the next week or so.

_Wait. _

Leo began a swift series of calculations in his head. If he could find the red wire and hook it up to the blue wire that was the console, then he could…

_Yes. Success._

Leo grinned in the way that only a happy man can. It mattered not that he was covered in grease stains and Tabasco sauce. (He got nostalgic some days, looking at the head of his closest dragon friend.) It mattered not that he'd been holed up here for at least the past several weeks. He'd had Piper, Jason, and the rest of his cabin bring him his food, which he only ate to satisfy the rumbling in his stomach.

Still, this didn't matter. Leo had found the key to his problem. All he had to do was…

Leo paused, hesitating. He'd thought he'd imagined it. But there was a faint buzzing noise just behind his head. Leo turned, his hand on his tool belt just in case something happened.

But it was only Piper, or rather the image of Piper in an Iris Message.

Leo straightened up, pushing the curly strands of hair back from his face so he could actually see her. He smiled. "Oh, hi, Piper."

She smiled back, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Hey, Leo…" She trailed off, a dangerous look replacing the smile.

"What?" he demanded.

"YOU'RE ON FIRE!?"

Leo blinked. "Wha—?" Leo swatted blindly at his clothes, catching on fire and spreading precariously close to his table of work supplies. "Agh!" Leo took off his jacket, stomping on it like a furious little child.

He took a spare water bottle from a desk, uncapped it, and flung it at the flames on his jacket. His jacket sizzled, died for one long moment, and then started up again.

Leo cursed. Stop, drop and roll it was.

_A couple minutes later…_

Leo huffed, annoyed at the intense amount of effort it took to put out a flame. Much harder than igniting one.

Behind him, Piper was giggling. "Better now?"

Leo glared, pointing a finger at her. "Not a word," he threatened.

Piper stopped smiling…almost. "I think you should be more careful," she opined.

"Yeah, yeah," he said dismissively. "Run along, little girl. Uncle Leo's got this covered."

Piper snorted, but ceased with one long look from Leo. "Well, if you ever think about showing up for dinner, you know where we'll be."

"Gotcha," said Leo, slashing his hand through the image before he could make Piper go into debt for drachmas.

Leo glanced at the mess around him, the mess he had made himself, and then at the mess that he was himself. He could just imagine what his friend Jason would say, and agreed with him.

Leo was a weird kid.

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><p><strong>Once again, thanks for reading and I'm open to suggestions!<strong>


	9. Peanut Butter Fetishes

**Percy discovers how far Tyson's peanut butter fetish really extends. Set after TLO.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9: Percy Jackson, Discovers Fatality of Peanut Butter Fetishes<strong>

There was nothing like being alone to make one feel lonely.

Percy certainly was feeling that way right now as he glanced at the pretty blue glow his cabin had. Tyson had built a replacement for the beautiful water fountain he'd broken with his many Iris Message/visions of Nico di Angelo, but it only served to make Percy feel even more nostalgic than he'd been before.

There were 12 bunks all around the cabin, and only one was occupied. Percy stared at the white ceiling, letting his mind wander. He'd finished all his camp chores and counselor duties for the week with Annabeth. A true feat, considering he had neat freaks like Annabeth and Malcolm to compete with.

He'd kissed Annabeth goodnight, and just come back to his cabin, ready to snore. The only problem was he couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, and his back was getting unnaturally warm.

Percy threw off his bedcovers, and stepped out of bed, heading towards the water fountain. He plunged his hand into the cold water basin to pick up a drachma. He shivered, chills scraping down and back up his spine.

"O, Iris, please accept my offering and show me Tyson, in um, Poseidon's mega awesome underwater palace," he whispered to the spray of water.

Rainbow light quickly illuminated the fountain; Percy took a step back. The rainbow took a couple moments to respond. Percy wondered if he shouldn't bother, since it was late anyway. As if spurred by his thoughts of doubt, the image focused, clarity swooping into Percy's senses like a peregrine falcon on its famous speedy dive.

Tyson's face showed in the image, covered in a sticky tan-colored Percy was quick to identify: peanut butter.

"Tyson?"

Tyson's head snapped, just then registering Percy. "Brother," he exclaimed, almost dropping what was in his arms. Three guesses: peanut butter. And a wooden spoon making several debuts between Tyson's mouth and the GIANT quart of peanut butter.

"What are you doing?" wondered Percy.

"Uh…eating peanut butter?" he offered weakly, his big Cyclops eye blinking innocently.

Percy blinked. "Okay…"

"Daddy says I love it so much I get high off it," added Tyson proudly, nodding his head.

"Oh," was all Percy said while his eyes widened. He stumbled for words, settling with, "Well, tell Poseidon he should moderate your peanut butter amounts, okay?"

Tyson nodded dutifully, looking longingly at the quart in his hands. "Okay, brother."

"I…uh, better get going, then. Bye, Tyson." Percy slashed his hand through the image, water spraying everywhere.

"Bye, brother," he mumbled, diving into his quart with his spoon. Percy blinked, alarm registering in his brain. That amount of peanut butter was unhealthy, and how, he found himself wondering, did Tyson even fit that much peanut butter into his mouth?

Percy shook his head, climbing back into his bed.

His brother was weird, but he was his brother. The bonds of family stuck even when distance separated them. Percy fell asleep wondering if the bonds of peanut butter were what made it addicting.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	10. In Between

**Leo's shirtless, Hazel is rendered speechless, and Frank IMs at the absolute worst of times. Set between MoA and the HoH, when we all still had that precious Leo-Frank-Hazel banter.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 10: Hazel Levesque, In Between<strong>

Hazel Levesque hated surprises.

And the surprise of her lifetime was staring at her in the face. Hazel froze, shock reverberating through her like an earthquake. She was rooted to the ground.

She did not expect to see…_this._

Leo, without his shirt, dancing wildly in front of his vanity, singing obscene pop songs of this century into his microphone a.k.a. his hairbrush.

"What the hell?" she muttered blankly.

Leo turned around, his curly hair bouncing around his face as he did so. His songs, lovely to an extent, were cut short. His eyes widened and then narrowed, making his elfish features seem more prominent than ever. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Hazel steeled herself, and took a deep breath. She stepped inside, quietly closing the door but failing when the door squeaked on its hinges. She winced at the sharp noise.

"I'll fix that later," said Leo off-handedly. "But seriously, Hazel, what are you doing here?"

She tried not to admit how much his use of her name bothered her. She might have failed in this prospect. "What do you mean, what am _I _doing here? What were _you_ doing?" she exploded. "Because, to me, I'm afraid to call it like I see it."

Leo sighed deeply. His cheeks were slowly beginning to turn red, like he was a really, angry tomato. "Fine, now you know my dirty secret."

Hazel laughed loudly, not lingering on ladylike conduct at all. "What, that you like to sing?"

"And dance," reminded Leo. "Don't forget that."

"Without your shirt," she added unthinkingly.

Leo stared at her, a deep blankness in his eyes.

It's here Hazel should point out that she was intending to say goodbye and leave as the situation was getting a tad bit too awkward for her. She was fanning her face, the way she did whenever she got flustered, and her other hand was actually on the doorknob. She was literally _this _close to leaving when the air to her left shimmered in a distinctly Iris-flashy way. Hazel gaped. "Frank?"

His bulky frame filled the screen, wide-eyed as he took in her image. "Hazel?" he echoed in disbelief. "Where are you? I couldn't find you in your room or on deck so I started panicking and…is that _Leo?_" he asked.

Hazel's heart pounded loudly. Well, this was awkward. "Uh, no…"

Leo who could not take a hint in his life—_ever__—_ waved cheerfully. "Hi, Franko."

Frank raised his fist in a mildly threatening, mildly cute way. "I told you not to call me that!" he shouted.

Hazel had never felt more embarrassed in my life. "This isn't what it looks like, I promise!" she pleaded.

Frank turned back to her, dangerous suspicion brewing in his eyes. "And what would it look like, Hazel, to the average outsider?"

"I wouldn't call you average, Frankie. You'd be…below average," Leo put in, fake pity drenching his voice.

"Leo," hissed Hazel under her breath. "Not helping." She looked up at Frank helplessly. What would it look like, she wondered? Worst case scenario, Frank would think she was cheating on him or something. Actually, scratch that. The _new _worst case scenario, Frank would think she was getting it on with Leo or whatever the modern word/phrase for sex was. Hazel shuddered; deep feelings of _wrong _were echoing through her core. "Would it look like a friend helping another friend out?" she tried weakly.

Frank crossed his big, bulky arms and for once looked like the son of Mars who he was. He shook his head.

"Oh," said Hazel, with a defeated air. "Well, in that case—"

"You know what, this IM thing is stupid. I'm just going to come down and settle this once and for all," said Frank, slashing his arm through the message.

From upstairs, she could hear Frank lumbering down the stairs. Her eyes latched onto Leo's, fear ringing between the two of them as a unifying factor. "Hide," she squeaked.

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><p><strong>Thanks, as always, for reading! Also, is it true that Rick Riordan said in an interview that only 3 or 4 of the Seven are actually going to survive after the Blood of Olympus? A friend of mine was telling me that, and I was like...No Way!<strong>


	11. Singing in the Shower

**Hey, guys. Here's another one.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 11: Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Singing In the Shower<strong>

Rachel Elizabeth Dare treasured her downtime.

It was the only—repeat, _only—_time she didn't have to be bothered with demigod matters and socialite matters. The only time she didn't have to bother with hanging around Percy's friends or even worse, her dad's friends.

This was why when she said she wore a kimono and nothing underneath, it was perfectly normal…at least, for her.

Her "room" so to speak was large, the penthouse of the family-owned building of her father's. It was afternoon, but Rachel wasn't too sure. She spent a good portion of her days indoor with the blinds closed, mostly because a) she was paranoid and b) her father was paranoid as well.

Her bathroom was not nearly as large as her room, but still a good decent size of about the average rich person's master bedroom. Rachel padded into this bathroom at about 3 o'clock—with the blinds still closed—and shut the door.

She twisted the knob, and with a sputter the water sprayed wide and invitingly from the showerhead. Rachel reached up to undo the bun in her hair; she always waited a while before entering the shower so the water would warm up.

She let the kimono slip, and headed inside. She let the water run over her body first. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It was showtime.

Rachel liked to shut her eyes and imagine she was standing on the stage at Carnegie Hall, ready for her solo. Not because her father had bought her way, but because she had somehow earned it—despite being _un-_musically talented in every way.

Rachel opened her mouth, and began her routine. _"There's a fi-i-i-re starting in my heart, reaching a fever it's bringing me out the da-_ark_!"_

Rachel winced. Her voice always cracked at the most terrible times. She plunged on however. "_Finally I can see you crystal clear, go 'head and sell me out and I'll lay your—"_

"Oh my gods!" cried a new voice.

Rachel whirled around. What the heck? "Annabeth?"

Percy's girlfriend stared at her with profound look of horror through a misty image. "What were you just doing?"

Rachel gulped, and stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her midsection. "Did you teleport here into my bathroom with demigod powers or what? Is that normal?" she wondered, only slightly angry.

Annabeth stared at her without blinking her flat gray eyes. It was kind of creepy, actually. "No, this is an Iris Message."

"Cool," Rachel commented. "How does it work?"

Annabeth narrowed her eyes, recognizing Rachel's pathetic attempts at changing subjects. "What were you just doing?" she reiterated.

"Oh," Rachel said, deflating from her excitement. She blushed a bright red, heat flooding through her in such an intense wave she knew without a doubt she was turning a color deep enough to match her flame-red hair. Her mouth was suddenly dry, tasting like old pennies. "Oh," she repeated again. "I suppose that was me singing."

Annabeth snorted, doubling over in laughter. "You? Singing?" she managed in between hysterical gasps and laughs.

If it was possible, Rachel blushed even more. "You can't tell anyone," she begged. If Annabeth told everyone, she could never return to camp. Especially not if the Stoll brothers knew. Rachel shuddered inwardly at the thought.

Annabeth, having recovered from her uncharacteristic laughing fit, stared at her, disbelief plain in her two raised eyebrows. "_I _can do anything," she pointed out, the know-it-all technicality returning to her voice.

Rachel blinked. "Fine," she said without rancor. "What do you want me to do?"

Annabeth curled her lips into a very, very wry smile. "Be my friend," she ordered.

Rachel's forehead creased. "I thought we already were friends and you just only turned into a jealous power-hungry crazy freak when Percy's around."

Annabeth bristled. "What do you mean—?"

"Never mind," snapped Rachel.

Annabeth shook her head as if physically letting go of the thought. "Anyways, be my friend so we can fool Percy."

Rachel laughed. "Trust me on this one: that boy is the easiest demigod you will ever fool. He's so thickheaded," she said unthinkingly. Rachel paused, just then remembering that she was fantastically degrading Annabeth's _boyfriend. _

To her surprise, Annabeth cracked a small smile which gave Rachel hope she might be human after all. "Gotta go! Bye!" And Annabeth slashed her hand through the misty image, and she disappeared, leaving Rachel, alone and dripping wet.

Demigods were weird. And Iris Messages were the weirdest part of them yet.

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><p><strong>How true, Rachel. How so very true. <strong>

**Thanks, as always, for reading!**


	12. Surrounded by Drunks

**Sorry, guys for not updating in a while. I'm kind of struggling with ideas, and I was stuck at Creative Writing "camp" for three weeks. But now that's over, it's back to writing...and school, which starts Wednesday! :( Also, here's some shameless advertising: you guys should also read my other really serious long story, The Parent Trap, centering around Travis and Connor Stoll, featured in this chapter. But yeah, here's chapter 12!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 12: Katie Gardner, Surrounded by Drunk People<strong>

There was nothing—repeat, absolutely nothing—in the world that was worse than hearing unsubstantiated declarations of love, at least to Katie's ears.

And to top it off, hearing all these so-called unsubstantiated declarations of love from an inebriated Travis Stoll of all people—despicable, truly.

"I…love…you," he whispered to her for the millionth time, leaning awfully close to her neck.

Katie cringed; his breath smelled foul.

No 15 year-old should ever have access to alcohol, she chanted to herself, a devout follower of the anti-underage drinking principle. And, she added dejectedly, no child should be flopping his tongue around his mouth like it was a fish out of water—the way Travis was doing right now. "Lollollollol," he mumbled incoherently.

Katie groaned as she supported his weight, keeping him upright just barely. He leaned on her shoulder, his arms flopping at a weird angle.

He was so lucky she'd found him. Katie would actually have been sleeping soundly in her cabin, if it hadn't for this little snitch in the plan. Katie had remembered just before going to bed that she'd forgotten her basket full of fresh-plucked strawberries by the fields and they'd freeze overnight if she didn't save them. She redressed herself quickly and headed out.

The moon was pale and full, high in the sky. Katie headed towards the beach, the fastest way to the fields. She ran, kicking sand with her shoes carelessly along the way.

Then she tripped.

At first, she thought she tripped over a piece of driftwood or a log or something, but nope, closer inspection found it to be Travis. Not dead, but still mumbling gibberish. And he stank. Katie was tempted just a little to leave him there, her good conscience wouldn't let her. She was too _good. _She had to drag him back to his cabin.

Katie hooked her two arms under his shoulders and pulled him up using all her might. She glared at him—he kept mumbling those stupid declarations of love. Plus, Travis kept leaning in a bit too close to her chest. She glared at him even harder than before—hard enough, she feared, to make her go cross-eyed.

He was heavy, and she struggled with each step. She was almost to the edge of the beach when the air shimmered right in front of her. At first, Katie thought her vision was failing because she saw a rainbow in front of her. It took her a moment to figure out that it was an Iris Message from…

"Katie?"

"Connor?" she gasped. "What are you IM'ing me for?"

It was dark outside and the exact outline of his face wasn't clear, but she could still sense he was confused. "What? No, I was Iris Messaging Travis. Why would it show me you?"

Fragments of ideas floated around in her head until she finally connected them. "Oh, he's here with me," she said, hoisting up Travis to the Iris Message so Connor could see.

He did not react the way she expected him to. "Woman!" he shrieked. "What the hell have you done to him? Fed him your evil alcohol or what? You know alcohol is made from grains? I bet you did it on purpose!"

Katie sputtered, completely, utterly at a loss for words. "And why would I do that?" she shouted at him, not caring about the harpies doing their rounds. Her integrity was at stake here.

Connor's eyes widened in horror. "So you can sleep with him! Don't move! I'll rescue him from you myself! I'll save my brother. Hold on, Travis!" he yelled before cutting the connection.

Katie rolled her eyes, her ire just under the barest of control. Connor always overreacted, even more than Travis.

Katie looked down at Travis in her arms—snoring peacefully having passing out. Screw her strawberries! She might as well wait for Connor; she needed the extra help anyways.

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><p><strong>Thanks, as always, for reading!<strong>


	13. The Humiliation of the Blowfish

**Yes, I know, it's been forever since I updated. But I've got 4 Honors/AP courses, 5 music-related activities, and NO free time. There. I've officially established the excuse I shall be using for the rest of high school. Happy? I am. Now here's the actual chapter...**

**ALSO, very important: I finished the Blood of Olympus, and it was amazing. I'm not spoiling anything...yet, but I will say that tumblr and I both love solangelo.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 13: Payback, or the Humiliation of the Blowfish<strong>

It was the first day back at camp, and Percy had already forgotten his Greek textbook.

Percy was no Annabeth, but the camp had quite literally _forced _him to take home his Greek textbook so he could study up year-round. For some reason, everyone thought he needed the extra practice. Yeah, right. So he took the book home, and just kind of forgot about it. Percy kicked his shoe against his bedpost angrily. How could he have forgotten it?

Percy crouched on his knees and checked under his bed in Cabin 3. Of course, his bed was unmade and the netherworld of his bed didn't look particularly promising, but he still checked anyways.

He cursed. Nothing.

Percy stood up and brushed the dirt off his knees. He scratched the back of his neck, wondering what to do.

_Aha! _

Percy headed over to his beautiful fountain, the one Tyson rebuilt. Seashells decorated the sides of it and the water glistened blue. If Percy sniffed, he would have smelled the slightest tinge of soap. Or maybe that was salt.

Granted this fountain wasn't quite as accurate as the original, but he managed. Percy scooped up a drachma from the lowest tier of the fountain and tossed it through the misty spray on the top tier. "O Iris, show me Sally Jackson, New York." His mom would help him out, Percy was sure.

The image fizzled for a moment, then refocused sharply. At first, Percy didn't comprehend. Why was he seeing the headboard of his mother's bed? And then, the grunting noises reached Percy's ears.

"Oh, oh God!" screamed a male voice, mostly likely Paul. Or Percy should hope it was Paul.

"Oh, gods!" corrected Percy's mom's voice.

Wide-eyed, Percy felt his lips begin to part. Oh, no. _Oh, no. Oh, no!_ He quickly realized what was going on. Percy wanted to say something, but he couldn't. The words were stuck in his mouth.

The image began to shake rhythmically in an up-and-down motion, focusing and refocusing. The grunting was in time with the shakes.

_NO!_

And then before Percy could interject, came a long satisfied sigh. "Ah!" cried Sally.

"MOM!" yelled Percy.

The shaking stopped. And then—timelessly—his mom popped up into the Iris Message. Naked, just as Percy had suspected. "Percy?" screeched Sally, clutching the blanket to her chest.

And then Paul popped up next to Sally, also naked from the shirt up. (Percy would forever be glad he hadn't seen what was below.) "Hey, Percy!" he mumbled, rubbing the side of his face.

Their faces were both bright red. "What do you think you were doing?" demanded Sally.

Percy sputtered. "I…um…uh…needed my, uh, Ancient Greek textbook, that I, uh, brought home for the year."

"You didn't bring anything home with you," Sally mentioned slowly, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Oh, I thought I did. I couldn't find it here so I thought maybe…?" Percy trailed off, his mind grabbling at the image of his mother and Paul in bed _together. _

Sally glared at him. His own mother glared at him. "Percy, I swear, if you don't end this message now, I will hunt you down."

Percy blinked, and blushed deep red. "Okay, mom. See you, Paul. You know, Mom, this is kind of revenge for the time you interrupted me and Annabeth—"

Sally scowled, while Paul just shook his head and kind of snapped out automatically, "It's Annabeth and I."

"What about you and Annabeth?" asked Percy, getting increasingly alarmed by the minute. "Are you guys doing something too? Why can't you guys just leave me alone?" he whined.

Paul joined Sally in the fierce scowling. "Your grammar. I was just correcting your grammar—"

Percy felt his mouth open in horror. Quickly, his hand slashed through the image, cutting it short. He'd taught himself from a very early age to avoid anyone—especially teachers—when they claimed to know grammar.

Only the slightest twinge of guilt nipped at his heart about cutting off his mother and Paul. Percy's thoughts settled on grammar again, and he shuddered. _Gods, no._

Even the mightiest gods' wrath could not compare to the horror of English grammar.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>

**Updates: They may not be for a while. My parents fear I might be going nearsighted (like Jason G from Blood of Olympus) so I might need glasses...**

**Oh yeah, and my birthday passed by in the month I was AWOL. Yay!**


	14. The Secret Diaries - Part 1

**Hey, y'all. I actually had this written up for a while, but forgot to post it. Whoops. **

**Also, this one was a little too long so I enjoyed myself immensely writing the cliffie at the end. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 14: The Secret Diaries - Part 1<strong>

Will Solace normally didn't get that attached to his patients, but Nico di Angelo had always been the exception.

Those three days in the infirmary had changed both of them. It sounded a little creepy, Will admitting he'd only watched Nico sleep for several days, but since he was a doctor, it wasn't.

Or at least he hoped Nico didn't see it that way.

War had changed Nico. He wasn't just some skinny boy dressed in black that Percy Jackson had adopted practically out of nowhere. He was a solid presence at Camp Half-Blood and whether the fact that he was staying at Camp Half-Blood was for better or for worse, Will did not know.

Every night Will slept, his dreams were plagued with Octavian's last moments. It really bugged Will that he was somehow—thank the gods, _distantly—_related to him. That kid with the straw-colored hair, thin as a scarecrow, he didn't deserve his fate.

Had he? Who was Will to judge?

And then, after this recurring dream came the happier one, the one of sunshine. Nico di Angelo, smiling and laughing. He never laughed and smiled; it was a rare occurrence when it did happen.

Speaking of which, Will needed to find Nico for his weekly check-ups. Will was in the infirmary, checking his clipboard to make sure. Yeah, Nico was supposed to be here. Will had offered to check up on Nico every week to see how he was healing—mentally and physically. "Doctor's orders," he'd claimed when Nico protested, but secretly he enjoyed Nico's sarcastic grumbles.

"Hey," Will started, catching the arm of Katie Gardner who was running around the infirmary dressing and redressing bandages of the really unfortunate battle wounds. "Have you seen Nico?"

"Nico?" echoed Katie. "Nope," she told him, her brown ponytail swishing around her head quickly.

Will scratched the back of his neck. "Where do you think he'd be?" he asked.

Katie opened her mouth, but then closed it. "Why do you want to know?"

Will stumbled for words, "Um, because, I need to do my weekly check-up thing on him." And just because he wanted to, Will added a nice, "Duh," for emphasis.

The intended effect was to dissuade Katie from assuming the worst. What actually happened: Katie just kept on smirking and smiling knowingly. "Your best guess would be to IM him," she told him.

"Thanks!" he told her. "Can you cover for me while I make a quick call?"

Katie laughed. "Any day, loverboy."

Will was too busy setting the stethoscope around his neck on a table and running out the infirmary to really hear her.

Instead his mind was focused on the fairly easy routine: fountain, coin, long-slightly-boring-and-old-fashioned speech to Iris. It was a good thing that Percy always kept Cabin 3 unlocked or else everyone would have to make their calls in the fountain in the central park of the camp.

"O Iris," he whispered to the blue fountain, "show me Nico di Angelo, uh hopefully somewhere in the vicinity of Camp Half-Blood?"

Will tossed a drachma somewhat respectfully into the mist. It went through the fountain and landed on the other side of the fountain gracefully, like a treasure never to be found again.

"Aw, come on," he whined. "Please?"

Will tossed another drachma in. And another. And another. It took another 15 coins before Iris actually accepted the call.

The mist sputtered and the rainbow darkened until the scene was finally clear—dark black walls studded with all different kinds of diamonds (Nico's tribute to Hazel, Will figured), obsidian pillars, and torches lining the walls and glowing neon green flame. It looked like your average throne room of the Underworld, except the steps at the base of the supposed throne instead lead up to a big California king bed—Nico's.

In between the other columns were other spares, but Hazel only ever used one…_once. _

At first, Will thought Nico was sitting on his bed and reading a book. Upon further inspection, Will realized Nico was holding a pen in his right hand and writing _in _the book. "Nico?"

Nico's back straightened, stiff as a rod. He dropped the pen in his hand, and whirled around looking for the owner of the voice. His dark, beautiful obsidian eyes landed dangerously on Will, squinting in confusion and slight distaste. "Will?"

"What were you doing?" demanded Will.

"Doing what? I wasn't doing anything," defended Nico, lying ever so subtly. Pft, like Will wasn't so amazing he saw through all that jazz.

"Yeah, right. Were you…writing? Like a story?"

Nico shook his head. "I don't write stupid stories in my secret diary." He seemed to realize his mistake a little too late: "Oh, um. Never mind what I just said. I don't have any secret diaries."

Will burst out laughing, in great big guffaws. "You…have…a…secret…diary. Hahahahaha!" he panted.

Nico slouched a little, seemingly getting more and more uncomfortable with the conversation. "No, I don't. Why the hell would you assume that—?"

Peals of laughter kept bubbling up and out of Will uncontrollably. "Hey, Nico. Maybe I should get one of the Stoll brothers to steal it for me so I can read all about your secrets or whatever. Won't that be fun?" he suggested. "Secret diary!" he yelled out again, chorusing into laughter yet again.

If Nico had just been dryly sarcastic then, he was all business now. "YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING!" he screamed. "WILL SOLACE, BY THE GODS, IF YOU DO THAT, I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND TEAR YOU APART MYSELF!" he vowed.

Will bit his lip in an effort to contain his laughter. "How will you kill me if I'm only talking to you in an Iris Message?" he pointed out, being all smart-aleck-y.

Nico made a loud indignant noise. "Well considering I don't have a good track record with Iris Messages anyway, I'll just shadow-travel over then!"

Will's doctor instincts kicked back in. "NICO DI ANGELO, YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING! AS A TRAINED DOCTOR, IT IS MY DUTY TO ENFORCE PROTOCOL 2.01.04 BY SAYING—"

The Iris Message connection dissolved as Nico shadow-traveled and with either great or terrible aim, landed directly on top of Will, sending them both sprawling to the ground.

"Oh," said Nico. "Hello there," he said a little rudely, before trying to lock his hands around Will's throat.

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><p><em><strong> To be continued...<strong>_

**Thanks for reading!**


	15. The Secret Diaries - Part 2

**Gods, I love it when I get reviews! So, since it's Halloween, here's your treat! It's that second half some of you were wondering about...and this is a direct continuation of last time.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 15: The Secret Diaries - Part 2<strong>

Will struggled, trying to pry Nico's hands off his throat. It was a good thing Will was physically stronger than him, or else he would have been asphyxiated by Nico ten times over already.

Just then the door to Cabin 3 opened and in came Percy Jackson and more importantly, Katie Gardner, who obviously finished her shift at the infirmary and was preparing to inspect the cabins.

Damn, thought Will. He and Nico froze.

Above him, Nico muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Will to hear him say, "Shit."

Almost comically, Percy and Katie's eyes widened and their mouths formed perfect ovals. Katie reacted first, crooning a little annoyingly, "I knew it! I knew it!" repeatedly, over and over again.

Percy stood still as a statue, his eyes a little unfocused but still undoubtedly on Nico. "This was why?"

Will didn't really understand what that was supposed to mean.

Nico groaned audibly and stood up awkwardly, brushing lint off his aviator jacket. Will also rose to his feet, but his eyes were on Nico. His cheeks were tinted a pale pink, like a breast cancer ribbon.

Katie was still doing her happy dance. "I knew it! I knew it!"

Percy gaped openly at them, and whatever hope Will had of both of them not getting the wrong idea had been extinguished. "But…"

Katie put her hand on Percy's elbow. "Let's leave them to themselves, Percy." If Will already didn't have someone else, he might have been in love with Katie.

"But that's my cabin," he said, sounding a little lost. "Do they have to do it in my cabin?"

"Yeah, what do you mean 'leave us to ourselves?'" demanded Will.

Katie showed the first sign of exasperation. "Gay people," she muttered under her breath as she dragged Percy out of the cabin. "I will never understand."

Soon it was just Will and Nico again, which would have been fine, except everything was awkward now. "So…" began Will, digging his pockets deep into his shorts. A small shy smile was playing at his lips.

Nico's left eye twitched. "You do realize that this is all your fault, William."

Will laughed at the irony of it all. "Whatever you say, sunshine. Whatever you say."

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	16. Two Boys on a Picnic

**Hello, all. Yes, I know it's been forever since I updated but to be fair, a lot has changed since then. I had free time for the first time in months today, and so this idea sprung from a beautiful prompt I discovered on tumblr: "Mass graves make such pretty picnic grounds." Naturally, I related this to solangelo, and Ta-da!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 16: Piper Discovers Two Boys on a Picnic<strong>

Piper couldn't find Will Solace _anywhere. _It was like he'd disappeared — which was unfortunate since he was sorely needed to sing a healing charm on Jason — who got hit in the head with a brick from the Big House. Again.

So while Jason was in the infirmary, it was Piper's job to find Will. He wasn't in the Apollo Cabin, and he wasn't anywhere near the basketball courts. She even checked the lava wall, but Connor and Travis hadn't reported seeing anyone fall into the lava today at least. (A pity.)

Piper even checked the log sheets for the infirmary. Will had signed at 8:02 A.M. this morning, but hadn't signed out. It was like he'd walked in and evaporated into thin air.

Seeing no other option, Piper found herself taking one of the few drachmas she had in her pocket and tossing it into the small jade fountain by the doorway of the infirmary. The fountain was as tall as her forearm, three-tiered, and on a constant loop. She didn't really understand how that worked, but given that Percy was back, Piper figured it was some unique power of Poseidon.

It was the only plausible explanation to her.

"O Iris, goddess of the rainbow, show me Will Solace, wherever he is."

The waterfall shimmered a bit, and the mist began to gather and accumulate and grow until a visible shape came into view. Before, it was always seemed impossible to Piper that colors like black or brown could be visible in a rainbow, but the Iris Message managed it. Red and yellow changed to grey slabs of stone and endless grassy plains. Indigo became an impossibly sunny cerulean day filled with white blobs, or presumably clouds. And, if Piper strained her ears, she could hear the trailing notes of a tenor sax.

Needless to say, this wasn't Camp Half-Blood.

Piper focused on the grey tombstone closest to her. In front on it were two figures, seated on a blue-and-white checkered cloth, eating grilled cheese sandwiches out of a tan picnic basket. Their smiles were too happy for a graveyard. The image refocused from the landscape to the people: both two painfully familiar boys—foils of each other, one wearing nothing but black and a smile on his face, and the other wearing nothing but a devilish smirk and the warmth of the sun with him.

"Will? Nico?" sputtered Piper, shocked beyond disbelief.

Both their heads snapped up, and Piper almost regretted having ruined their blissful moment. Will's eyes bugged out: "Piper? What are you doing?"

Nico squeaked.

Piper blinked, coughed, and swallowed. Things were beginning to get really awkward for her. "I was looking for you. Jason got hit in the head with a brick again, and we need you to sing your healing song so he can get better. You weren't anywhere in camp so…" She trailed off, unsure how to finish.

Will's expression was deceptively neutral. "Fair enough. I was hoping I could take the rest of the day off and have a picnic but I guess not. We should start heading back, Nicky."

Piper choked.

Nico choked.

Will plowed on undeterred. "To be honest, the only reason we were having a picnic was because Nico accidentally shadow-traveled us here. Who knew you can channel your inner Tennessean accent?"

Nico was beginning to blush, and not only in the embarrassed kind of way.

Piper didn't need to be a daughter of Aphrodite to realize romance-wise this had taken a hypothetical turn for the worse. It was time for an intervention: "Hey, Will?" she interrupted.

"Yeah, Piper?" Will turned back to her.

She pursed her lips, thinking hard about what she wanted to say. "Why don't you apologize to Nicky, kiss and make up, and _then _come back to Camp Half-Blood? And if you want to come out of the closet sometime soon too, that would be nice. Got that? Yeah? Mm-hmm," she finished, slashing her hand through the misty image, leaving behind a spluttering Will and a flustered Nico.

An immense feeling of satiety swept through Piper's heart, and she sighed in content. Behind her, Jason began to stir, sitting up on his cot and clutching his head. "What was that about?" he murmured, rubbing the sore spot.

Piper took her place next to him and kissed his forehead. "You don't want to know, babe."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! And don't forget, I do take suggestions!<strong>


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